their own separate homes in order to consummate their marriages. Wynne personally saw to the comfort of her female guests. Two additional beds had been set up to house the mothers-in-law. Gwenda would sleep with her mother, and the two serving wenches who had accompanied these ladies would sleep upon trundles belonging to the beds. There was plenty of water for washing.
In the hall below, Enid saw to the comfort of the gentlemen, assigning bed spaces, making certain that there were enough coverlets, that the fires were banked, the men-at-arms settled in the stables, the doors bolted securely. Noticing Madoc glancing toward the staircase, Enid said quietly, 'She must get her rest, my lord. All of tomorrow's preparations rest upon her shoulders.'
'We had planned a tryst, lady,' he admitted.
Enid shook her head. 'Not this night, I think.'
He bowed politely. 'As you will, lady. Will you tender my regrets to Wynne?'
'I will,' Enid promised, and patted his cheek. 'There will be plenty of time to get to know my granddaughter after tomorrow.'
He smiled at her and said, 'I can see from where it is Wynne gets her strength of will, lady.'
Enid chuckled. 'Perhaps,' she agreed, 'but Wynne is also very much herself, my lord. Never forget it.'
'I suspect she will not allow me to, lady,' was his response, and Enid nodded even as she turned to ascend the staircase to the solar. There she found Wynne, free now of her obligations, preparing to descend.
'No child,' she told her granddaughter. 'I have told Madoc that you must have your rest this night. Tomorrow will be a fiercely busy day for us all, but most of the obligation will fall upon you. I am simply too old for it.'
Wynne was disappointed, but she knew that her grandmother was correct. Besides, she was eager to hear what Nesta had to say about Rhys. Curious as to how Madoc's petite sister had so easily enslaved the big man, for it had been obvious from the moment the two had returned to the hall in the late afternoon that Rhys of St. Bride's was touchingly in love with the radiant Nesta of Powys. Removing her clothing but for her chemise, Wynne washed herself, as was her custom, and then climbed into her bed.
'I thought you were to meet Madoc,' Nesta said, surprised.
'Grandmother said I must get to bed, for tomorrow will be busy,' Wynne answered. 'Tell me about Rhys? You must certainly possess some sort of magic to have so easily tamed so fierce a man.'
Nesta's laughter tinkled softly. 'There is no magic involved, Wynne, I swear it!' She rolled upon her side and looked into Wynne's beautiful face. 'Ever since I was a tiny child I have dreamed of marrying a man like Rhys. A great bear of a man with a heart as tender as an egg.'
'Rhys?
Again Nesta laughed. 'Aye,' she said. 'Tender-hearted! I vow it is true, Wynne, but of course he dare not show such a face to the world. You can understand that, can't you?'
Wynne nodded. 'Do you love him?' she said.
'Not now,' Nesta said honestly, 'but I am going to once I get to know him better.' She smiled. 'When your sisters are wed and gone, we will have such a good time! We will take bread, your fine cheeses, sweet wine, and we will picnic in the hills near Gwernach.'
'If the weather holds,' Wynne answered practically.
'It will,' said Nesta with a deep certainty, 'but go to sleep, sister, for the lady Enid is right. You do need your rest.'
It was the best night's sleep that she had had in many weeks, and when the head house slave, Dee, touched her shoulder to awaken her in the hour before the dawn, Wynne rose refreshed. It was too early for her to dress in her fine garments, but she pulled an ancient, well-worn tunic from her trunk and, belting it, hurried downstairs barefooted. She was pleased to see that the fires had already been rebuilt from their embers and were blazing merrily. Unbolting the door to the hall, Wynne hurried to the bakehouse to find the baker was even now removing a second baking of fresh breads from the ovens. With a smile of approval and a wave, she moved on to the dairy to find the cows being milked and the cheeses to be eaten at today's feast set upon the stone counters, awaiting transportation to the hall.
In the cook house, Gwyr, the cook, his spoon badge of office waving, directed his minions in a number of duties both inside and outside the building. Outside spits had been set up for the two great sides of venison, the two sides of beef, and the four young lambs that were now turning over open fires. Inside, the cook fires roasted capons, ducks, and a young boar. Wynne almost collided with a lad carrying a tray of game pies to the bakehouse to be baked.
Gwyr, a fussy fellow, shrieked aloud. 'Drop those pies, you clumsy oaf,' he threatened, 'and I'll mince you up to take their place!'
The boy tossed the cook a saucy grin, not in the least fearful of the threat. 'You'll have to catch me first, Da!' he laughed.
'Is there to be fish?' Wynne asked.
'Aye, my lady! Sea trout stuffed with mullet stuffed with oysters. It's to be steamed in wine and herbs and served with carved lemons on a bed of fresh watercress.'
'You are an artist,' Wynne told him. 'Are the sweets made?'
'Aye! Harry, the baker, has made a sugar cake for our brides, and we have molded rose jellies and candied violets as well as an apple tart.'
'You have all done your work so well, there is little left for me to do,' Wynne complimented Gwyr and his staff.
'You must make yourself beautiful for your prince,' Gwyr said with a sly smile.
Wynne laughed. 'I shall have no time for my lord Madoc until I have seen to the safe departure of my sisters.'
Gwyr said nothing, but a voice from somewhere in the cook house said quite distinctly, 'Which cannot come too soon, lady!'
'For shame!' Wynne answered, shaking her finger at the unseen culprit, but she was hard-pressed to contain her laughter. Neither Caitlin nor Dilys had ever been popular with the servants, and with good cause. They were both demanding girls who were never content with the service rendered them.
Wynne next hurried to the church to find Father Drew directing several young girls who had just arrived bearing fresh flowers, still wet with the dew, and branches of greens, newly picked, with which to decorate the church. Unlocking a long, narrow box in the vestibule, Wynne drew out fresh beeswax candles and gave them to the priest. Moving on back to the hall, she found the men already stirring and, catching Einion's attention, said, 'Make certain that the lords of Coed and Llyn bathe before they wed. I suspect neither has seen water in several weeks, for I noted that both were rank yesterday when they came. Perhaps, though, it was just the hot ride.'
'I'll bathe them myself, lady,' Einion said, a grin upon his face, 'not that your sisters deserve the kindness I do them. The prince will help me. He's a man who likes his water.'
'Take them to the river and then see the oak tub is filled as quickly as possible so the ladies may wash.'
The large oak tub used for bathing was quickly set up in an alcove of the solar and filled with hot water. Wynne woke her guests first, but both the ladies Blodwen and Gladys looked horrified at her suggestion they might like to bathe.
'I shall be chilled to the bone if I bathe,' Blodwen protested in weak tones. 'I would surely catch my death of cold and be abed for months… if I survived.'
'I only bathe in my own tub,' the lady Gladys said loftily, 'and I did so last month. I certainly do not need another bath yet.'
'Mother! Do I have to?' Gwenda whined petulantly.
'Of course not, my treasure,' Gladys told her daughter.
'As you will, my ladies,' Wynne said politely, and woke her sisters.
Seeing the large tub set up, Caitlin and Dilys began to argue as to who should bathe first.
'Caitlin is the eldest,' Wynne said, settling the argument.
'You are the eldest,' Mair piped up.
'I will go last, as any good hostess would,' Wynne said. 'Let our brides wash themselves before the rest of us; and Caitlin is the eldest of the brides.'
Several maidservants came up to the solar to help with the preparations, and to Wynne's amazement, they
